


This Noble Land by Conquest Won

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brits in America, Harry & Severus hiding out, Hiking, M/M, National Public Radio, Vermont, alive and kicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Severus have found life sweet amongst Muggles in Vermont. But their peaceful world is shattered one day in a most unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Noble Land by Conquest Won

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 Snarry Games, Team Snitch. The prompts were "go West" and "symphony", the genre "alive and kicking". Always a favorite of mine.
> 
> A million and one thanks to my wonderful and very fast beta team, joanwilder, magicofisis, and aome who caught some of the weirdest grammar mistakes ever. They pushed me to make this a much better story, and for that, I am eternally grateful. The title is paraphrased from the poem “To Rutland Go” by Vermont citizen, Thomas Rowley (1721-96).
> 
> Dedicated to the memory of fellow Team Snitch member and friend simons_flower

_“And that was the Piano Concerto Number 23 in A-Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Murray Perahia was the soloist and he conducted the English Chamber Orchestra from the keyboard. A bestselling album for Mr. Perahia and the Brits from 1984, and still one of the finest . . .”_

“God, he has the sexiest voice!”

Harry ducked his head and grinned. “You think so?” he asked, faking nonchalance. 

It was a typical afternoon for Harry Potter—no, Hank Evans—proprietor of Moose Head Outfitters. He busied himself with a stack of invoices, and punched the total button on the calculator a bit harder than he’d intended with the eraser-end of the pencil. With Severus on the radio, the afternoon was headed towards another round of Mary Anne’s smutty discourse on what she’d like to do to his body as he declaimed on classical music history. Harry endured her comments by only half-listening; he, of course, was enjoying his lover’s voice and the thinly veiled snarky commentary that only he picked up on, and fighting down the erection. 

“Fuck, _yeah_ ,” Mary Anne, Harry’s assistant said. “There’s just something about an English accent that makes me all hot and bothered. Damn. “ She did something approximating a spastic shiver, as she gathered up an armload of t-shirts.

_“We shall round out our mostly Mozart afternoon with his Symphony Number 35 in D Major, more popularly known as the ‘Haffner’. It is played with delightful enthusiasm by the Academy of St. Martin’s-in-the-Field, conducted by . . .”_

“Oi! And where do you think I’m from? Boston?” Harry asked in a terrible, exaggerated New England accent.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, yours is pretty, too, except you’re my boss, and saying your accent makes me want to rip your clothes off and do wicked things may be a little too close to inappropriate behaviour,” Mary Anne said. “I think you’re cute, though. Can I say that?”

“Only if you don’t touch. I’m always the cute one,” he said, deadpan. “Never the sexy one. Never the foxy one. I’m just cute.”

“You could be a jerk, or a horn dog, or a sonfabitch. So saying I think my boss is cute a good thing. That’s how I advertise you down at Faye’s cafe,” she said in a teasing tone. “Why do you think the female side of the business has grown so much since you hired me?”

Harry cocked his head in thought. “I reckon that’s something. Thanks.”

“You bet. I do a lot of word-of-mouth advertising wherever I go. So is he going to be at the festival tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the station manager talked him into doing it, much to his dismay,” Harry said, shaking his head at the memory of Severus’s rant about being strong-armed into staffing the booth during the Green Mountain Festival, a creation of the Chamber of Commerce to help kick off the summer visitor season and give businesses a much needed boost in sales. “Seems you’re not the only one eager to see him in the flesh.” 

“Oh, that’s awesome! “ Mary Anne squealed. “I finally get to meet Mr. Sexy. Ooh, I hope I don’t spontaneously orgasm when I meet him.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Mary Anne, that was way too much information. Are there any customers in the store?”

“Nope, just you and me, and of course, Raphael.”

At the mention of his name, Raphael raised his head and thumped his tail on the wooden floor. “Awww, who’s a good doggie? Who’s the pretty boy?” Mary Anne knew how to lay it on thick with Harry’s Labrador retriever.

Harry shook his head, slightly shocked at Mary Anne’s candor, and just slightly jealous that she had such thoughts about his lover. Boyfriend. Partner. Something like that. Even after five years together, he wasn’t sure how to classify Severus. ‘Boyfriend’ seemed too . . . undignified. Lover, while being true, just didn’t seem to capture the depth of their relationship; it was a lot more than shagging. And ‘partner’ didn’t capture enough of the shagging part. “Well, good. I don’t suppose I need to have a discussion with you about appropriate topics of conversation with the buying public?”

“Nope, not me.”

They worked in silence as the delightful music of Mozart filled the sun-dappled store. Harry reconciled the invoices, humming along with some of the more melodic sections; his assistant moved stock around; Raphael dozed.

The music from WQIT came to a rousing end. _“And that was Mozart’s Haffner Symphony. This afternoon’s playlist, as are all of WQIT’s musical selections, can be found on our website at www.wqit.org. I hope you have enjoyed today’s exploration of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s influence on classical music. Tomorrow I shall continue playing some of his later works. It is . . . almost at the top of the hour, when we will join National Public Radio’s news program ‘All Things Considered’. “_

“Well, damn. His show is over, and now I have to put up with the boring Americans again,” Mary Anne said, flipping through a rack of summer shirts. “Is there any way you can convince him to record shows so that the station plays nothing by him 24/7?”

“Not if I can help it,” Harry muttered. Louder, he said, “I think even you would reach a saturation level with him before too long.”

_“On today’s show, host Robert Siegel takes us behind the scenes of a real . . . working . . . dude ranch. And Michele Norris reports on the controversy of First Lady Michelle Obama’s sartorial sense. Sleeves or no sleeves.”_ Silence. _“Perhaps our friends to the north at the CBC have real news . . . “_

Mary Anne laughed loudly. “God, I love it when he’s sarcastic.”

_“It’s obvious NPR is finding it a slow news day. . .”_

Harry chuckled. “And he’s going to get told off by his station manager. She really doesn’t like it when he tells listeners to switch to CBC. I’ll bet she’s rounding on him right now.”

_“Support for ‘All Things Considered’ is provided by Moose Head Outfitters--clothing, gear and **expert** guide service for all your recreational needs here in Northern Vermont. This has been your host, Samuel Sapperton. I bid you all a good day.”_

Harry knew Severus would take his time refiling the discs he’d played, updating the playlist database, filling in the evening music host, and possibly do the local news updates for part of the ATC. Sue, the station’s manager, would also want to see him about encouraging listeners to desert to the Canadians. After that it would be a twenty-five minute drive from the station on the campus of Northern Vermont College. 

“So Hank, tell me again how you guys came to be in our part of the universe?” Mary Anne said casually, coming to the counter with an armload of shirts. “We’re not exactly on the main highway of life out here in the woods.”

Harry sighed as he glanced at the clock. How fast could he tell the story of “Hank Evans” and “Samuel Sapperton” and their coming to America? “Well, we knew sort of where we wanted to live: northern New England, mountains, small town. From there it was kind of a process of finding the right place.” _And then convincing Severus that he really could live in the woods without a bookstore or a decent restaurant nearby._ “A friend of a friend recommended the Green Mountain area to us.” _Not one wizard lives here, nor does any American wizard know us as The Chosen One or the most notorious war hero in all of wizarding Britain._ “So we moved here. Samuel and I had some savings, which made it possible to not have to find jobs for a little while. I hiked just about every trail around here to keep from going crazy, and Samuel read every book in the college library. I took some wilderness survival classes, and the guy who owned the store before me, Rob Smith, hired me on to lead hikes and weekend camping trips. Then he wanted to retire so he sold me the store about eighteen months ago. And here we are.”

“For two guys who have no family connection to anyone around here, you’ve become remarkably popular,” she said. “We moved here when I was five, just up from Montpelier, and my parents are still called newbies. Everyone just seems to accept you Brits as part of the social scene.”

“If you call having lunch at Faye’s the ‘social scene’, then yeah. I can’t remember the last time Samuel came into town for anything other than to pick me up from here when the truck’s in the shop. It must be all that word of mouth publicity you give me, Mary Anne,” Harry said, checking his watch. “That, and being a very popular local radio host.”

“Well, being as it’s about the _only_ radio station that people can pick up without any trouble. And you’re something of a local hero, you know. Finding all those lost hikers, particularly those two college kids last winter, hasn’t hurt your reputation at all. “

Harry shrugged. “Just part of the business. I know these hills pretty well, so it’s only natural that I participate in the searches.” He checked the time—four-thirty—close enough to closing to clear out the register. He busied himself with counting the cash and the credit receipts. “Wow. Not a bad day at all, especially before the festival. Things are looking up!”

Mary Anne came over, her arms full of long-sleeved shirts. “These are for the sale rack tomorrow. I think people will still buy them, even if the weather’s turned beastly hot.”

“Twenty degrees isn’t hot, Mary Anne.”

“Say what?”

Harry closed his eyes. “Sorry. It’s, “ he checked his dual C/F thermometer, “seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Happy now?”

“Yes, I am. When in Rome, Hank. When in Rome.” She carried the shirts over to a metal rack for the sidewalk sale. “So when are you planning to get here in the morning?”

“Bloody early, that’s for sure. I have to help Samuel set up the booth for the radio station since they’re going to be broadcasting from here.” Harry put the day’s take into a bank pouch. “Hey, look. It’s getting on towards five o’clock. Can you take the deposit to the bank? Don’t bother coming back. Go get an early start on the evening.”

“Sure thing, boss, as soon as I finish with this.” Mary Anne put the last of the shirts on the rack, grabbed her backpack from behind the counter, and took the bank pouch from Harry. 

“Come on in around nine, all right?” Harry asked. “And I’ll buy your lunch so don’t worry about bringing one. Have a great evening.”

“Thanks, Hank. Tell Samuel I can’t wait to meet him,” she said, laughing. “Dark chocolate with a cherry on top!”

Harry chuckled as she twirled out the door. “Think Severus will hex her if she tries to grab his arse, Raph?” Harry softly asked the big dog next to him. Raphael thumped his tail in response and groaned as he rolled over. “Yeah, probably not. It’s going to be a very, very interesting day tomorrow. Especially when all the ladies find out Mister Samuel Sapperton, the suave voice of WQIT, is not available.”

The doorbell tinkled. “Hi!” Harry called out automatically. “May I help you?” A young woman with dark hair came in and started looking through the sales rack. “There’s plenty more over to your right. And I’ll be closing up in about twenty minutes. We’ll open up early tomorrow for the Green Mountain Festival this weekend.” Harry was looking through a supplier catalog as he spoke.

“No, I don’t need any assistance,” the young woman said. Harry noticed a slight European accent—German, maybe? “But I will be here for the festival.”

“Great. It’s always a fun time.” 

Harry looked at her. She was dressed all in black— _like any self-respecting European travelling in America_ —and carried a large leather handbag. Raphael got to his feet slowly and shook, his tags jingling. He lifted his head and sniffed several times; he emitted a very low, soft growl.

“Raphael,” Harry warned. The Labrador came over and sat heavily on Harry’s foot. “Hey, no need for that, old boy. Everything’s fine.” But just in case, he fingered the holly and phoenix feather wand that was cleverly concealed in the seam of his jeans.

Living amongst Muggles meant many adjustments to his way of living, the biggest one being no casual or everyday magic. Everything had to be done as Muggles did, which was fine by him. Having grown up in a non-magical house, Harry was comfortable with doing simple chores without magic. Severus, though, had had more trouble giving up wizarding ways, more out of being stubborn than anything. Using magic left an energy signature, mostly indistinguishable from normal Muggle energy. But they’d decided not to tempt fate so they’d agreed not to use their magic except in dire circumstances, though in their home, warded by many protective and concealing charms, they used magic normally.

“Your dog does not like visitors?” the woman asked as she passed the checkout counter where Harry and Raphael were. 

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Harry said, patting him on the head. “He’s actually extremely friendly. I think he’s just ready to get out of here for the day.”

“I see. Well, I shall be back tomorrow. There are several items I would like to purchase, I think. You offer guide services, yes?” _Definitely German._

“I do indeed.” Harry handed her a pamphlet describing the trips the store offered. “I’ll be happy to arrange any sort of trip you’d like, including overnight camping, though I usually have my summer workers lead those. I hire on several students from the college to work trips for me.”

“Fascinating, I am sure,” the woman said, looking through the brochure quickly. “And you are Mister Hank Evans, yes?”

“I am, yes,” Harry said.

“Thank you very much. You have been most informative.”

“You’re welcome. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, you shall, Mr. Evans.”

The woman let herself out of the door. As the silvery tinkling from the door chimes died away, Harry said to Raphael, “And if that women is a camper, I’ll eat your doggie biscuits.”

Raphael barked.

* * *

Driving was a pleasure Severus Snape had never expected to experience. As a wizard, he could Apparate, Floo or fly on a broomstick, though admittedly, the whole broomstick thing had never appealed to him, especially in inclement weather. These were far more efficient means to convey oneself to and fro. So, giving up the wizarding ways when Harry and he had fled to the Muggle world had found Severus floundering when it came to getting to and from work. Having to depend on Harry to drive him everywhere quickly became untenable and something of an embarrassment. Rural Vermont did not have public transportation, so Severus had broken down and asked a very willing and excited Harry to teach him to drive (Harry himself had to adjust to driving on the wrong side of the American road after learning to drive in England); the irony of their reversal of roles did not escape either of them. Three weeks and two bottles of scotch for his nerves later, Severus Snape, or rather, Samuel Sapperton, was the recipient of a Vermont driver’s license and the owner of a 1972 black Mercedes sedan. That had pleased him more than anything. Harry’s faded red, standard-drive pickup truck simply did not fit the image of a public radio classical music host, or so he’d thought.

With the cuffs of his white shirt rolled three-quarters up his arm, windows down, his shoulder-length hair whipping about his face, and Robert Siegel’s dulcet tones delivering the day’s news, Severus Snape—no, Samuel Sapperton—was thoroughly enjoying the drive home on this late spring day. The sun shone brightly, prompting him to slide on a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. He smirked as he caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror. Harry had picked this pair out and insisted that Severus wear them even after they got home. It’d resulted in a most excellent blow job. 

Driving along the familiar route from the station to his home also afforded Severus the luxury of just being able to _think_. Most often his thoughts drifted to events of the past ten years: _the perfect execution of his escape plan from the Shrieking Shack the night he “died”; being revived and saved by a fellow potions master with no political axes to grind; moving amongst European colleagues to various safe houses whilst recovering from the effects of being bitten by a magical creature; helping to develop sophisticated medicinal potions to cleanse his body of the poison and to help heal the scar on his neck; finding a life in Croatia; being found by British Aurors; being interrogated by Harry Potter and then saved by him from assassination; being protected by Harry, finding reconciliation, acceptance, and friendship with him; and finally, taking tentative steps towards something much warmer, much more. . . ._

_Harry. His Harry._ In the twelve years since that final moment in the Shrieking Shack when he’d looked into the emerald green eyes of Lily’s son, Severus had caught a glimpse of emotions he’d thought he’d never ever find in James Potter’s son: compassion, regret, and something he could not define. He’d felt the pressure of Harry’s hand on his chest, a hand that had tried to will his heart to keep beating. And when unconsciousness took him, after he’d disgorged the memories he’d stored up for the boy, he himself had felt a peace he thought would never come to him. 

And in those twelve years, Severus found Harry Potter was not the boy he had imagined. He was loyal and kind, and sincere in both. His hair was not tousled out of vanity, but truly did not lie flat. And that vaunted Gryffindor courage, it too was not borne of conceit, but rather of a desire to do what was right and see that justice prevailed. Harry’s short time with the Auror Corps, coupled with Hermione Granger in the Magical Law Enforcement division, had completely overhauled the wizarding justice system, such that it mirrored the Muggle one, and improved on it. Even he, a hunted and despised former Death Eater, had been accorded due process and a fair trial. All due to Harry Potter, who’d put his reputation, his career, his very life on the line for him, not because of any gain, _but because it was right. . . ._

Severus blinked and shifted as powerful emotions welled up at the memory of that time in his life. Harry Potter had given him back his life, and extended to him something he never thought possible: his heart. And now, here they were, living in Muggle America, in a beautiful rural community, with a future spread out before them. 

The scenery became more familiar, and he slowed the car as the entrance to their home appeared. All of a sudden, he was aware of a car following along behind him. He glanced in the mirror, noting there were two heads in the late model sedan. Nothing out of the ordinary, though not many people travelled this back woods road. He turned on the signal and made the turn into the drive. As he did, the car behind him slowed to a crawl. But then the Look-Not spell came into effect as his vehicle crossed the magical boundary, making it look like the car rounded a sharp turn. He watched as the car stopped for a split second, then sped up and disappeared.

_Odd._

He drove up the long, single-lane drive, climbing steadily higher, and rounded a wide bend. He stopped and parked outside the dark wood-sided house. Alighting from the car, he turned and took in the spectacular view of the spring green hills that surrounded their home, a view that never failed to take his breath away for an instant.

After enjoying the view for several heartbeats, Severus smiled and turned back to the car to remove his jacket and briefcase. He noted Harry’s truck parked off to the side, pleased to see it wasn’t on the small patch of grass he’d been encouraging to grow. Harry hated grass because it meant maintenance and work, but Severus wished to preserve just a bit of an English garden in the one sunny patch of their house.

As he approached the house, Raphael barked at the screen door, and then nosed it open. The big dog lumbered out excitedly to greet his other master. “Hallo, old boy,” Severus said, scratching the beast’s head. “Did you have a good day at the store? Hope you didn’t get into trouble like you did the other day. Harry was not happy with you.”

Raphael panted heavily, a doggy grin evident. He licked Severus’s hand, which made Severus grimace, and then walked beside him as his master entered the magical wards that surrounded the Unplottable house. 

Living in the Muggle world, while a not altogether uncomfortable experience (he did grow up with a Muggle father, after all), it did mean cessation of basic magical skills. Since becoming the music director at WQIT, Severus had had to develop a magical dampening potion for himself. On that score, he was extremely uncomfortable with not being able to have access to his magic. But working with the sensitive audio and broadcasting equipment made it necessary. He’d nearly quit when he blew the circuits of the satellite uplink unit twice in one week, costing the station nearly half its upkeep budget. He settled upon the dampening potion because he truly enjoyed the job. 

“Hi, Sev,” Harry greeted him, as he met man and dog at the threshold. He pushed open the door, handed Severus a phial of the antidote, and took the leather case and jacket from him. “You sounded great today. We enjoyed the Mozart programming.”

Severus tossed back the potion and, instantly, a welcome warmth and tingle flooded his body. It was as if the world regained its dimensionality and colour. Everything seemed more vibrant and alive. He leant over and gave Harry a kiss; Harry’s hand rested on his shoulder, and their kiss lingered lovingly. Severus broke it with a slight nip to Harry’s lower lip. “It’s good to see you, too.” He touched Harry’s cheek with his forefinger. “I trust you had a fine day.”

“We sold enough to pay Mary Anne for the week,” Harry replied as they walked down the hall to the kitchen. “And I have two guided trips booked for mid-July. I’d say it was a spectacular day for business.”

“And how is the redoubtable Miss Mary Anne?” Severus asked, amusement lacing his voice. 

“Excited to finally be meeting you tomorrow,” Harry said, opening the fridge, pulling out two bottles of lager. “She’s developed quite a kink for your voice.”

“How charming.”

“Yeah, I just hope she doesn’t embarrass herself or you. I like her and she’s a good worker, but she can be quite . . . ribald, especially where you’re concerned.”

“Then I shall be a massive disappointment to her, I imagine.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’s shoulders. “Not to be a prat or anything, but I kind of hope so.” Severus raised an eyebrow. “What I mean is that maybe she’ll stop salivating over you and leave you to me. You really _are_ far too sexy.”

Severus snorted, but then pressing his lips to Harry’s head. “You have a biased opinion.”

“Yes. Yes I do, and I don’t apologize for that. I know the total package, and it is amazing.” Harry lifted his head to favor Severus with a smile. “Just you don’t go being too charming tomorrow.”

“I doubt there is any danger of that happening.”

Harry chuckled as they broke apart. He opened his bottle and took a swig. Severus grimaced. He reached into a cabinet for a pint glass. “You might want to prepare yourself for something akin to an invasion. Mary Anne’s been talking it up, I’m afraid,” Harry said. “The ‘Samuel Sapperton’ fangirls will be out in force.”

“Absolutely bloody marvelous.” Severus carefully poured a perfectly headed pint, and took a sip, sighing. “Perhaps I can Compel them to make large cash donations to the station. That should satisfy the more practical notions of our esteemed station manager.”

“Hey, all that programming is expensive,” Harry said, laughing. “You’re always on about that during the fund drives.”

“Yes, it is. And I am going to demand hazard pay for this little outing she has set me up for tomorrow.” 

Harry patted him on the back. “It’ll be all right, I’m sure. Besides, I’ll be right inside the store, waiting to rescue you from the screaming, flailing fangirls. And fanboys, too, I imagine. You do know you are one of the most popular classical music hosts in the NPR system. Ever since the station decided to stream on the Internet, the percentage of listeners from all over North America has spiked. Sue told the Chamber of Commerce about it at the meeting this morning. She’s says you’re a. . .hit. . .” Harry’s voice trailed off. He turned, and stared off into the distance through the window. “How long has the station been streaming?”

Severus took a sip of his beer. “About two months. Clearly, I had not considered the appeal of the station beyond the confines of our limited listening area.” He stopped. “Harry, what are you thinking?”

Without turning from the window, Harry asked, “Do you know if there are any statistics from Europe?”

Severus stared at Harry for several heartbeats. “No.”

Harry turned to him finally. “I think I remember her saying something about. . .the software that logs IP addresses was only installed last week. You don’t think. . . I think I’m going to give Sue a call.” Harry went to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“Wait. I’m sure it’s fine.” Severus set his glass down and came to stand beside Harry. He placed his hand on the receiver. “We’re a small station in the very large NPR market. I appreciate your Auror training coming into play here, but I seriously doubt that in the very short time we’ve been on the Internet anyone from home has found us.”

“I’m not worried about home, Severus. I’m worried about wizards with an axe to grind anywhere. Wizards who lost people to Death Eaters. Despite what we proved in the trial, there are always going to be people who will blame you for Dumbledore’s death, for any evil visited upon their families or communities by Death Eaters. There will always be a significant portion of the wizarding world who will identify you as a Death Eater.”

Severus took him by the shoulders. “Harry, it’s all right. Did Sue say how many people from North America listened to the station since the new tracking software was installed?”

“Well, no. Just that it was a large number.”

Severus went to find his briefcase. He brought it back to the kitchen, set it on the table and opened it, pulling out a sheath of papers. “Ah. The weekly reports for the last few months. Something I rarely read, but it seems this one shall be much more interesting.” He scanned through the short reports. “It seems. . .we’ve had only a miniscule rise in listeners, and even less in donations. Just a couple logging in from Canada. The majority are from Vermont, New Hampshire, upper New York state as I suspected. Oh, here are a few intrepid souls from Washington state. One woman from the Seattle area sent a large donation. There are no statistics from Europe. Our dear Sue has a way of . . . overstating things in order to boost the status of the station in the eyes of the community.” He put the reports on the table, and enfolded Harry in his arms. “It’s fine, for now." 

Severus gave Harry a slow, soft kiss. It quickly grew to one of desperation and need. Harry’s arms tightened around him. Severus held him, deepening the kiss, controlling it, calming the frantic fluttering of Harry’s tongue. He felt Harry slacken his grip around him, felt the taut muscles soften. Severus ran a hand through Harry’s hair, further calming the younger man in his arms. Finally, the fight seemed to drain from Harry and their kiss became leisurely. Severus lifted his lips and tucked Harry’s head into the crook of his neck.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said quietly.

Harry nodded. Then, he said, “Do you want us to be discovered?”

Severus closed his eyes and thought. Was that why he felt strangely unconcerned with the revelation that his voice was being transmitted all over the globe? Their reasons for leaving England had been solid: British wizarding society disapproved of their Chosen One, the Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord, being in a romantic relationship with the Man Who Killed Dumbledore. Had it been just that, or just that the Boy Who Lived was living with a man? It was difficult to suss out exactly what the cause of the furor had been. Harry had resigned from the Auror Corps as the public continued its scrutiny of his life. Despite all the change for the good he had affected, Harry Potter, the public reasoned, could not be trusted to run their elite law enforcement division if he himself was living with a criminal. Though, of course, that criminal had been cleared of all charges. . . .

“Perhaps. Perhaps it’s time to test the waters again,” Severus said reasonably. 

“Are you satisfied with your life? Being here, I mean,” Harry asked, his hands running up and down Severus’s back. “We haven’t. . .we haven’t talked about this in a while so—“

Severus pulled back, allowing him to take Harry’s hands in his. “I am more than satisfied with my life with you. You are central to my happiness. Never question that.”

“I don’t. I mean, I haven’t in many years, but. . . as for living here, well—“ 

Severus said, “It isn’t England, but there were complications that made life unsatisfactory for _us_ there. Of course, there are complications here as well.” He stopped, and smiled. “I miss certain aspects of life, but compared to being in exile at Hogwarts, even though I enjoyed the company of my fellow teachers and wizards in more happy times, I must admit I miss England and our way of life.”

He kissed Harry’s knuckles. “But if that means living without you, then no. You must know I would move to the ends of the earth to have this life. With you.” Severus stared thoughtfully at their entwined fingers. “And you?”

Harry pulled out a chair and beckoned him to sit, but did not let go of his hand. “I don’t know. I like that I have my own business, even if it is a lot of work. It’s certainly better than chasing after bad guys. I like winters here, and that fact that people leave us the hell alone. But, despite all the shite we took when we got together, I miss my friends. I miss Sunday lunch at the Weasleys. I miss flying and Apparating and doing magic whenever I want.” Then, he sighed. “I sound like a petulant child. Sorry.”

“I miss all those things, too—well, perhaps not the Weasleys so much.” Harry rolled his eyes at him. “It is difficult to deny my magic full rein.” Severus looked at Harry squarely. “But this life is one of our own choosing and design. And the past three years have been the most fulfilling and joyful ones of my life. Yes, I miss England and my friends, the few that I have, but I wouldn’t trade this . . .well, it’s not an _exile_ exactly. It is a necessary detour.”

Suddenly, Harry’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. Severus chuckled. “This is too much talk before dinner. Let’s prepare something and continue our conversation later.”

After a simple dinner of beef stew and salad, Harry and Severus passed the evening in quiet activity: Harry assisting Severus in brewing enough of the magical dampening potion and antidote for several days; Severus listening to a classical music show he particularly enjoyed on the radio, while Harry busied himself with marking new products to purchase for the store in outfitters catalogs. Finally, when the moon was full, they stepped outside to renew the defensive and protection charms on their house. 

Harry sighed. “It feels really good to do complex magic,” he said, flexing the fingers of his wand hand. 

“Perhaps we should not neglect our defensive magic training,” Severus said as they entered the house once again. “We are perfectly safe to do it in the basement.”

“That’s a good idea, except not tonight,” Harry said. “We have to be up early to get your booth sorted, and I have other plans for us right now.”

Severus’s left eyebrow rose. “Indeed.”

“Yes, indeed.” Harry pulled on his hand to lead him up the stairs to their bedroom. “Come with me.”

* * *

Morning came much too quickly for Severus’s taste. Though he had always arisen early whilst teaching, not having to arrive at the radio station before ten o’clock meant he could have a bit of a lie-in, and he quickly became enamoured of his leisurely mornings. Even when Harry got up very early most mornings to take a quick hike or run before opening the store, he learned how to roll over and fall back into that delicious half-dream state. But now, facing a day of dealing with the teaming hordes, he nursed a cup of hot, strong coffee, while Harry showered. He picked at the toast and jam.

“Hey, you almost ready to go?” Harry asked, entering the kitchen, still toweling his hair. “I think we should probably take Raphael, given the whole Internet streaming thing—holy shit! Are you wearing a t-shirt?”

Severus gave him a ‘what does it look like, you idiot’ look over the rim of the mug. “Not my idea,” he said.

Harry laughed. “How much did she pay you to wear it?”

“Nothing. Stop laughing.”

Harry continued to laugh as he leant over and gave Severus a peck on the cheek. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine. No, really, it looks fine. I’ve just never seen you in anything other than a white oxford shirt.”

Severus heaved a sigh as he rose to put the mug in the sink. “The things I do for the cause of public radio. It almost makes me want to return to England, if only for the tax-payer supported broadcasting. I tried to get her to agree that I could just put a sticker on my jacket, but she insisted on my wearing this infernal article of clothing because we’re giving them away at the booth in exchange for large donations.”

“Well, at least it’s a dark colour.”

“That makes it only marginally better.” He pulled on a black linen jacket. Raphael trotted into the kitchen to stand next to him, looking up expectantly. “I don’t know why you insist we bring him with us. It will be torture for him with the heat and press of the masses today.” He pocketed a phial of the dampening antidote and pulled his wand partway out of the concealed seam of his black trousers.

“Well, I was going to leave him here, but I think it’s best we bring him,” Harry said, grabbing a piece of toast. “He can float between the booth and the back of the store, though, in truth, I’d much rather he stay with you.”

“If you insist.”

Harry took Severus’s hand. “Come on now. I’m not being Auror paranoid, it’s just a precaution. If anyone does make a move on you, Raphael’s good for a fight. Or at least, he’ll make someone think twice about doing anything. His size is rather off-putting.”

At his name, Raphael raised his head from his food bowl and gave a woof. “See? Even he agrees.”

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at both of them. 

*

An hour later, the WQIT remote broadcast van and equipment was up and running. Festival-goers were beginning to fill the main street, visiting the brightly decorated and colourful booths set up by food vendors, craftspeople, the National Forest Service, the college, and many other businesses and non-profit organizations. Green and white balloons drifted in the breeze from utility poles; the sun rose relentlessly through a cloudless sky. _This is Samuel Sapperton, coming to you live from downtown Green Mountain, Vermont, where the annual Green Mountain Festival is just getting underway. I invite all our listeners to come visit our broadcasting booth outside Moose Head Outfitters which is sponsoring today’s programming. Moose Head Outfitters— for all your hiking, camping and wilderness activities. Hank Evans, the owner and **expert guide** will be here a little later to talk about wilderness safety, right after ‘Car Talk’—It’s too bad we couldn’t pre-empt ‘Click and Clack, the . . .Tap-It Brothers’. They seem to be a favourite with our listeners, something I have yet to understand fully . . . ._

Mary Anne gave a little squeal. “Oh my god, Hank! He’s just as fabulous as he sounds. I even got to give him a hug.” She did a little twirl. “And he’s so tall! I never imagined he’d be tall, and those hands. Fuck me! His hands are exquisite!”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Harry said, one part annoyed and two parts amused. “He’s dreamy. You did catch the part where he’s taken, yeah?”

_“The temperature is already in the lower 80s here on Main Street in Green Mountain, on the way to a record-breaking high of 92. An uncommonly warm day for the last weekend of May here in northern Vermont. How joyous. All the naysayers about global warming should come experience this day. . . “_

“Oh, I know that. Keep your hair on,” Mary Anne said. “Still, I can see why you fell for him. Tall, dark, handsome . . .”

“That’s not a word I’d use to describe him,” Harry said with a snort. “Even I know he’s sorely lacking in the looks department.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s got that whole European, nineteenth century, gothic vampire look going for him. And you know how hot vampires are these days.”

Harry let out a long laugh. “Oh, that’s priceless! My friends and I used to think he _was_ a bat, but a vampire works. He did this swooping kind of walk, and his rob—er, jacket would sort of flap around him.” Harry caught himself just in time. “His hair was a little longer, too."

“Well, at least he doesn’t sparkle. What the hell kind of self-respecting vampire _sparkles_?” Mary Anne said as she refolded a stack of women’s knit shirts. “How long have you known him?”

“Quite a few years. He taught at the school where I went.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking your teacher?!”

Harry shushed her frantically. “God, Mary Anne. He is NOT my teacher! We got together way, way, long after I left school. Years later. Believe me, I did not like him when I was in school, nor he me. He was a hard bastard and I was a bit of smart ass. So, just don’t say anything about that to anyone, okay?”

“Sure thing, Hank. No problem.”

Several people walked in the door at that moment, and Harry gave silent thanks that no one had been around to hear their exchange. He glanced at the wall clock to find that it was just after ten o’clock. More people came through the door. It was going to be an excellent sales day.

Harry looked up to find Severus walking through the store, sans headset and mic. “You okay?”

“Of course. Just queued up the ‘Car Talk’ show from the satellite feed, and am waiting for the first break, which will be in about twenty minutes.” Severus acknowledged Mary Anne, who was waving at him frantically from the other side of the store where she was helping customers. “It is already much too warm for my tastes outside.” He pulled his hair back and wrapped a black hair elastic around it to form a low pony tail.

“Tell me about it,” Harry said, wiping his forehead. “I’m glad the two college students we hired are willing to work outside. I can’t turn on the exhaust fan because it’s just way too noisy.”

“Could you try a Muffling charm as you turn on the fan?” Severus said quietly, turning his back to the store. “I could help you.”

Harry looked around. “I dunno.”

“Think about it,” Severus said. “Your store could become an oasis to the sweating masses.”

“Oh, that’s great. You really know how to sell an idea,” Harry said. “Still. . .” He looked around again. “Yeah, let’s take the chance. The switch for the fan is over there. But it’ll have to have some sound or else that’ll be weird.” He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think I can cast the charm to muffle the sound just enough.”

Harry and Severus moved into position, Severus at the wall, and Harry beneath the fan behind a rack of men’s shorts. Harry looked around once more, and seeing no one watching, took his wand from his jeans. He nodded, and Severus counted down three-two-one with his fingers, and Harry cast a silent charm.

They stood still, looking around and listening. No one seemed have seen them and there was a very faint sound of a motor and air moving through the store. “Perfect,” Severus mouthed.

Harry was pleased with his charm. “Well, I must get back to the booth,” Severus said as they met back at the check-out counter. “I am required to ‘meet and greet and fleece’. I have left Raphael in charge, but I am sure he’s becoming quite bored with his duties as watch dog.”

Harry laughed again, giving Severus’s hand a quick squeeze, which was returned. “I’ll come out at eleven to do the interview.”

“I look forward to it.” And Severus gave him a rare full-faced smile as he walked out the door. That smile never failed to turn Harry on. He shook his head as he wiped his hand on his jeans.

The hour passed very quickly with Harry and Mary Anne selling clothing and equipment at a fast clip. Harry gave a fifteen-minute interview about wilderness safety and proper hiking gear. “Even just day hikes require at least two quarts of water per person. You should never go anywhere in the woods around here without rain gear or some sort of jacket because the temperature can drop suddenly and rapidly,” Harry said. “If you come by the store today, I’m offering a twenty percent discount on all rain and hiking gear, including day packs, good socks, and water bottles to encourage you to be prepared and hike our beautiful mountains safely.”

“Very fine advice, Hank. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in thanking Hank Evans, proprietor of ‘Moose Head Outfitters’ here in Green Mountain, Vermont.” The large crowd that had gathered around the booth to watch Harry and Severus applauded politely. Many of them started to file into the store.

“Hey, Hank,” Mary Anne called from the door of the store. “Phone call.”

Harry shook hands with several more people, and made his way towards his assistant. “It’s Jerry, the ranger.”

“Crap. This can’t be good,” Harry said, taking the portable phone set. “Hi, Jerry, what’s up?”

“Sorry to pull you away from the festival, Hank,” said Jerry Smith, head ranger for the Kataldin National Forest, “but we’ve got a report of a lost hiker.”

Harry listened to the information Jerry supplied. “You sure you need me?”

“I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t. This guy apparently needs medication which every searcher will be given in case they find him. He doesn’t pass out, but it’s very possible he could be delirious. And he was out all night. Given the temperature, there shouldn’t be a problem, but the medical angle pushes this to a priority one search.”

Harry sighed. “All right. Give me about thirty minutes to get out there. Traffic’s a bitch here.”

“I understand, Hank. I’m sorry about pulling you away from your business, but this is pretty important. And you know these trails as well as my crew.”

Harry hung up the phone. The timing on this was really inconvenient. Not just leaving his store on one of the biggest business days of the years, but leaving Severus alone and defenseless. “Damn,” he cursed to himself. “Damn.”

He changed into sturdy hiking boots and checked the contents of his pack, making sure he had his GPS unit and a medical kit. Mary Anne brought him two filled water bottles. “Sorry you have to leave. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“I know you will. Thanks. Hey, keep an eye on Samuel, eh? Sometimes he forgets to drink water and then he passes out. Make sure he has a full water bottle.”

“Take care of Tall, Dark and Sexy? I’m on it, boss.” Mary Anne saluted.

“Just keep your hands to yourself,” Harry said, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Here, take the cell phone.” She handed the store’s mobile phone to him.

Harry looked at it. Magic and mobiles didn’t always get along, but there was nothing for it today. “Yeah, thanks. I’m probably going to need that. The guy we’re looking for has a medical condition, so time is of the essence.”

“If anyone can find this cat, you can. Don’t worry about the store or Samuel. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thanks.”

Harry stepped outside. Severus, who had shed his jacket, was talking to several older women who were giggling like first years. “Ladies, I apologize, but I need to talk to him for just a second. I’ll hand him back.” 

“You’re my saviour!” Severus breathed. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Harry said. “I have to go.” He filled him in on the lost hiker.

“I’ll be fine here. There are so many people around, no one can do anything to me. Except, perhaps, grab a part of my person they shouldn’t.” Severus rubbed his bottom and grimaced.

“Hey, Raphael, c’mere, boy,” Harry said. The big dog got up and ambled over to Harry. “Take care of him. I need to go, so be on the lookout for anyone who wants to do harm to him, okay?”

Raphael panted heavily, his tongue lolling.

“Har—Hank, that’s completely unnecessary. And besides,” Severus drew Harry’s hand into his briefly, “I’m perfectly safe.”

“You’ve lost your spy paranoia, you know. I’d feel better if you’d put the antidote into your pocket before I leave, in case anyone takes a swing at you magically.”

“I cannot do it right this instant. Too many people watching. But I will, later.” Severus desperately wanted to reassure his partner that he could take care of himself, but not being one to— _oh, fuck it._ He gave Harry quick kiss on the lips, and rubbed the small of his back. “Take care.”

Harry was momentarily taken aback. “Yeah. Wow. Yeah, I will. You too.” And he walked through a murmuring crowd of onlookers.

“Damn. You mean Samuel isn’t available?” one female voice said.

* * *

The day passed very quickly. Severus interviewed many visitors and townspeople and business owners, all of whom were eager to talk to the now well-known and loquacious Samuel Sapperton. His tart commentary on NPR programming (“My god! Some of those people on ‘The American Life’ would make me utterly appalled to admit being an American! Which . . .I am not.”) amused many, and prompted lively discussion from visitors. He fended off advances from men and women of all ages but then quickly devised a scale of large donations for hugs and an occasional kiss on the cheek (for a very large sum of money to a most insistent octogenarian female). 

Mary Anne came out to check on him, bringing him water bottles with the store logo on them every hour or so. He sold several of them for large donations as well, expressing outrage that anyone would want to drink after him (“Don’t you know this country is facing the largest flu epidemic in several generations? Be sure to wash that bottle in hot soapy water before you drink from it!”). It seemed Samuel Sapperton was the most popular feature of the Green Mountain Festival.

Finally, the crowd thinned out a bit as the afternoon wore on. He inserted the disc for Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, one of his favourites, and sat in a chair just in front of the audio equipment so he could adjust the equalizer. He wanted to boost the bass just a tad to draw out its sonority. He turned the volume up, creating competition with the bluegrass band that was performing on the sound stage at the other end of town. In truth, he wanted to drown out the twangy music.

“Hi, Samuel. You doing okay?” Mary Anne asked. “You’ve been hard at work all afternoon, and thought you could use some sustenance.” She handed him a plate of rice and moose sausage, salad and a cookie from one of the food vendors.

“Thank you very much, Mary Anne. I shall have to reevaluate my opinion of you,” Severus said. He pulled off the headset and mic. “Our manager said she was going to be here later, so I don’t imagine I’ll have to wait much longer.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. You were looking like you were about ready to do a header.”

“What a charming colloquialism. But yes, I am famished.”

Severus ate slowly and quietly, hoping his silence would run off the Harry’s chatty assistant. A group of young people wandered through the door of the store, so she stood and went in to assist them. Visitors continued to stop by to talk music and public radio, so in between bites, he put down his food to speak with them. He had just picked up his plate again when he saw two young people circling around the pile of t-shirts on a table beside him. “You may have a t-shirt if you give a donation of fifty dollars to WQIT. . .”

One of the young people, a boy, came around the side of the table, stepping into the broadcast area with Severus. “Excuse me, but it’s not a good idea for you to be here with all this expensive. . . .”

“Get up!” the boy hissed, jamming a wand in Severus’s side. “Get up and come with us.”

Raphael jumped up and growled loudly, showing a mouthful of large, white teeth.

“You will call off your dog, or I will kill it right now,” the boy said angrily.

Severus looked around for his jacket, the one holding the antidote to the dampening potion. _Fuck! It’s too far for me to try to get it._ Raphael growled again.

“I’m warning you!”

“Then you must let go of me so that I can command him with a hand signal,” Severus said. “Do not harm the beast for doing what he is trained to do.”

The boy gave him a curt nod, and let go of Severus’s arm. “All right, boy. Come.” Severus motioned to Raphael with his hand, reaching out to pet his head. The fight drained from him immediately. “It’s all right. Go find Mary Anne, yes? She’ll give you a treat. Go on.” He patted Raphael again, knowing the dog would find the assistant, not that she could do a damn thing for his situation, however.

“All right. Now, you need to come with us.” The wand jabbed his side again.

“But I cannot leave this area,” Severus protested, his mind working quickly. He did not recognize the boy as a Death Eater. _How could he be? They were all in prison or dead by now._ “It is imperative that I stay with this equipment.”

The boy gave a hollow laugh. “Severus Snape, concerned about Muggle stuff? You really have fallen from favour, haven’t you?”

“Shut up, Dolohov,” sneered the other boy, this one a bit older.

“Dolohov?” Severus said, twisting around. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the boy’s face. “Antonin’s. . .son?”

“Yeah, I am. Raised in Germany I was, but with my mother’s people.” He pressed his wand in a little harder. “At Durmstrang, we learned how to take care of wizards like you. Though, in truth, you are hardly a wizard at all any longer, it seems. You don’t even have your wand on you!”

“Let’s take him now,” the older boy said again.

“And who might you be?” Severus asked. “You have the look of a Lestrange, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s right. Rabastan and Rodolphus were my uncles. And I went to Durmstrang as well.”

“Well, well. Isn’t this quite the avenging force?” Severus drawled, hoping to buy some time. Several people walked by the booth and gave Severus a strange look, but kept on walking. “You know, this is not exactly the best time to attempt a surreptitious abduction. I imagine kidnapping isn’t on the syllabus at Durmstrang, either. Winging it, are we?”

“Shut your yob, traitor.”

“Traitor?” Severus said loudly. Another wand dug into his side. “Traitor? How exactly am I a traitor? To Voldemort? I _died_ at his hand. I believe that absolves me of any service to him. Did you not hear that he is dead as well?”

“Shut it. You’re with Harry Potter. He’s responsible for putting my family into Azkaban and causing their deaths.”

“Oh no, no, you are misinformed,” Severus said. “They put _themselves_ into Azkaban. Had they been truly loyal Death Eaters they would have died for their Lord.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did. I was simply smart enough to develop a contingency plan. That’s why I was one of Voldemort’s closest advisors, and yours were toadies and minions.”

“How dare you call—“

“Oh now, just look at this. Youngsters thinking they can actually be baddies.” Mary Anne was standing behind the younger Dolohov; a man Severus recognized as one of Harry’s summer college student workers was behind the Lestrange nephew. “I suggest, you two idiots, that you drop your wands. Or, hell, Matthew—“

Together, Mary Anne and Matthew whispered, “ _Stupefy! Incarcerous_!” The two dropped with distinct thumps. One of them hit his head on the sidewalk. Raphael growled and lay down on one of them.

“Oops. My bad. That’s gotta hurt! Mary Anne Simmons, Magical Law Enforcement, First Region, based out of Boston. At your service, Professor Snape.” Mary Anne was grinning broadly.

“Matthew Jones,” the college student said. “I’m her partner. Oh, and I did go to Northern Vermont College. Always looks good on the resume.”

Severus stood there with his mouth slack. He turned, and saw several other persons, people who lived in town that he’d seen or spoken to over the years, also holding wands in their hands. Sue, his station manager, held hers to the face of one of the incarcerated thugs. “Hello, Severus. Glad to finally meet you,” she said as she held out her hand. Severus took it, stunned.

“How? We thought—“

“Thought there weren’t any wizards out here in the boonies, yeah?” Mary Anne said, with a grin. “Well, we’re everywhere, especially out here in the boonies. Those stories you hear about witches dancing in the full moon and all that crap? Well, there’s sort of truth to it, though I’ve never danced in the moonlight, except after a Patriots game, and drunk off my ass.”

“But how—?”

“You can thank someone named Hermione Granger for convincing my boss to provide you guys with some protection. We were to ‘keep our distance’, but not be too far away. Ms. Granger said you had your house pretty well locked down and protected, but out here in the big bad world, she thought you might need a hand. Meet Sue Enos, the regional captain for Magical Law Enforcement.” Mary Anne pointed to Severus’s erstwhile station manager.

“Severus, I’m sorry we weren’t able to meet properly under better circumstances,” Sue said. “But I’ve really enjoyed working with you for the past eighteen months.”

“But how were you able to protect me?” Severus was still trying to wrap his mind around everything. “How could you do it without—“

“A magic dampening potion?” Sue asked. “Have you ever seen me enter the broadcast booth?”

He thought for a minute, then groaned. “Harry was right. I _have_ lost my spy paranoia.” Then his eyes widened. “Harry!”

“Got that covered,” Sue said. “My entire division is out looking for the lost hiker with him, though we are sure this is not a lost hiker, but rather the third member of this little gang. Two of my men are trailing Harry closely. We received intelligence a few weeks ago that this bunch was getting ready to pull off this ‘attack’. God, they’re so young and so goddamn stupid. They actually bragged about their little revenge operation at a bar in the wizarding quarter of Paris, and someone from the EU Auror division heard it.”

“Sue, Mary Anne,” Severus interrupted, “no doubt your people have things covered in the woods, but I would feel much better if I were there as well. While I have no doubt that Harry can take care of himself and kick anyone’s arse, I am well aware that you are using him as bait to find this lost hiker.” Severus recovered his jacket from a chair, pulled out the phial of antidote, and downed it in one swallow. He shook his head as it cleared and magic flowed through his body. “I want to go there _now_ ," he said in a commanding voice.

“You guys take care of these idiots,” Sue said. “I’ll Side-Along Apparate Severus to the command post.”

Raphael gave a bark. “Come on, boy,” Severus said, crouching down and wrapping his arm about the dog. He looked up at Sue who immediately crouched beside him and did the same. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Harry climbed the steepest part of the trail, using his GPS unit and his wand as a locator device. The location spell kept picking up one of the other rangers who was hiking nearby. He didn’t know what was up with that; he was assigned this part of the grid by Jerry, and SOP usually meant no one would be around him for quite a ways.

His walkie-talkie crackled into life. “Base post to Evans. Hank, what’s your position?”

Harry put his wand in his wand-seam and picked up his unit. “I’m nearly to the top of Black Rock Ridge. So far, nothing.”

Just then he entered the clearing. Black Rock Ridge was a crossroads of sorts, a swale between three interconnected ridges that formed the backbone up to Mount Mansfield. He drew a deep breath, then stopped and pulled out a water bottle.

“Harry Potter.”

Instinctively, Harry turned. It was the German woman from the store. “Well, hello,” he said, his tone friendly. “We meet again, though I seriously doubt you hiked up this trail in those shoes.” He pointed to the high-heeled shoes with the hand holding the water bottle, and reaching for his wand with the other. “I never—“

“ _Incarcerous!_ ”

“Shite!” Caught off-guard, he dropped the water bottle. The thin black cords flew around him, pinning his arms and hands to his side. “Well, look at what you did,” he said, trying to make conversation whilst doing some very fast risk assessment. “Very good. I reckon the Incarcerous charm is something you Durmstrang witches learn first year.”

“It is,” the woman said, circling him. “We also learn how to use the Dark Arts to our advantage rather than to repel them.”

“Yes, that is a different philosophy from the one taught at Hogwarts,” Harry admitted, testing the tension in the ropes. “I’ve often wondered if we shouldn’t teach some Dark magic to our student so that they know what to do in these sorts of situations.”

“You also do not teach them to have their wands out at all times, obviously.”

“Oh, well, no. That _is_ taught. Wands at the ready, and all that. You simply caught me in a private moment when I thought no one was in the woods with me.” Harry felt for the handle of his wand pressed into the side of his thigh. “I was out looking for a lost hiker with a medical condition. I imagine that’s you.”

She laughed. “These American Muggles are so easily fooled. So eager to assist at the sign of any trouble, never bothering to ask important questions. It was I who reported the lost hiker, my ‘brother’ who has a life-threatening condition. They merely took me at my word. The photograph I showed of my cousin looks nothing like me! I simply led them to the conclusions they wanted to hear. It is quite astonishing that this country has become a leader in the world. It is populated by idiots and simpletons.” She came up to Harry and whispered the last sentence in his ear.

“Oh, now, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I rather like the Yanks. Hard-working, generous with their time and treasure. Beautiful country. Too bad you don’t appreciate how lovely the Green Mountains are,” Harry said. He struggled against the magical cords, and was able to slide his fingers around the wand hidden in his jeans seam. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know who you are.”

“That is unnecessary,” she said haughtily. “It is enough you know we are taking you from this place.”

“Come on, then. Let’s play nicely together. If you’re going to kidnap me or hurt me or kill me, it’d be nice to know who you are and what I did to piss you off so thoroughly.”

“You really don’t know who I am?”

“Can’t say that I do. You’re not a Death Eater. I took care of all of that lot.”

The woman got in his face, pushing her wand into his chin. “Yes, you did.”

“Ah, a fucked-off relative. Okay, so who is it?”

“How dare you be cavalier about this!”

“Lady, I’m hot. I’m thirsty, and I’m running out of patience. Let’s do this, shall we? Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?” Harry tried to look annoyed as he positioned himself to hex her.

“My grandfather was Pietro Mulciber. He died in Azkaban three years after the fall of the Dark Lord.”

“Oh, _him_!” Harry said. “I met him once. Damn, he was kind of old when I fought him my fifth year at the Department of Mysteries. Well, you know what they say.”

“And what is that?”

“What goes around comes around. _Diffindo! Stupefy!_ ” The seam on Harry’s jeans split instantly as he aimed his wand at the young woman’s abdomen. She fell back some twenty yards and lay spread-eagle on the ground. “And that’s what you get for fucking with me, bitch.”

Harry pulled the walkie-talkie out of his pack. Just as he was getting ready to call in, the _CRACK!_ of Apparation sounded around him. He whirled around, wand at the ready.

“Harry!”

Raphael leapt towards him, then landed on the prone woman, growling as he lay on her. He barked several times.

“Sever—Samuel!” Harry looked at him confused. “Oh, wait. If you’re Apparating, then everyone knows—“

“Ah, this must be Analiesse Mulciber,” Sue said, walking over and prodding the woman with the toe of her boot. “Get on up, Raphael. _Incarcerous!_ ” Red cords circled the girl. “ _Levicorpus_!”

“Wait. What’s Sue doing? Who are—Don? Why do you have a wand?” Harry looked around at the other ranger. “What is going on?”

Severus came to him and carefully ran his wand down the cords still pinning Harry’s arms to his body. “I do believe you have ruined your favorite pair of jeans.”

“Hang the jeans, Sev! Would somebody please tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?”

At that Severus laughed, pulling Harry to him in a hug. “I’m so very glad to see you are unharmed. Come on. Let’s go back and we shall explain everything to you.”

* * *

“So Hermione set all this up, eh?” Harry said. “Crafty witch. I’ll think twice before making her Secret-Keeper again.”

“I am sure Ms. Granger did not divulge any information she did not deem necessary. For example,” Severus said, handing him a tumbler of scotch, “no one knows where our house is, despite Mary Anne’s best attempts to get me to tell her.”

“Well, I sure as hell haven’t told her, though, come to think of it, maybe we should, now that the secret is out.” Harry took a sip of the drink. 

Life was definitely different than it had been a short twelve hours before. An entire community of witches and wizards became known to them, who came to the outfitters store for an impromptu celebration of sorts. They met several magical families who lived in Green Mountain, and many more who lived in the surrounding area. Someone brought in a case of butterbeer and several fifths of Salemtown Bourbon, an agreeable equivalent of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky (in Severus’s opinion); another wizarding family provided a large cauldron of clam chowder and a basket of bread. It was as fine a time as Harry could ever remember.

The team of American Aurors dispatched the three German youths back to Boston for processing before being tried by the First Region Wizarding Court. After they returned home from their long and very busy day, Harry had called Hermione to talk to her about her role in the whole affair.

“Oh, Harry,” she’d said. “Did you really think I’d just leave you two unattended? I understand why you and Severus moved to Vermont to start a new life, and I’m sorry the wizarding community here was so awful to you both. Your friends here have worked very hard to change public opinion about Severus. We thought telling people about his job as a music historian and radio announcer would create a new image for him and, for the most part, it has. Wizards who have Internet access listen to his show all the time. He’s really quite popular.”

“It really would’ve been helpful to have known that everyone in England is listening in,” Harry had replied, trying hard not to scold her. “I didn’t even know the station had gone online. And while we’re on that subject, why didn’t you tell me about those three kids? A heads-up would’ve been a professional courtesy, as well as a precaution.”

“That’s the thing. We needed those silly children to make an attempt on your lives so we would have a rock-solid case against them. Just throwing them in prison for making a threat wouldn’t have been enough. And the simple fact of the matter is we didn’t want to interrupt your life. We wanted you to be unconcerned so that they could make a move.”

“But why, Hermione? I’m still a trained Auror. I could’ve been handled for this.”

“Again, it was an attempt to keep you and Severus from worrying. I’m sorry. Next time I know someone has threatened your life, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Harry had said emphatically. “I may just be a shopkeeper now, but I can still defend myself and my loved one.” 

“I know you can,” Hermione had said. “But now that they’re in the justice system, they won’t hurt anyone else anytime soon.”

Harry shook his head to return to the present, and took another sip of his bourbon.

“Are you quite all right?” Severus said.

“Yeah, I am. Just thinking about stuff.”

Severus stood and walked over to him. He put out his hand. “It is time to stop thinking,” he said.

Harry snorted. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Nevertheless, I can think of at least one activity that will take your mind off the day’s events.” Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Harry smiled. 

“Come with me.”

“I love it when you say that to me.”

“There was a time when that would have struck fear in your heart,” Severus said, as he led Harry by the hand up the stairs, detouring through the kitchen to drop off tumblers and check the doors.

Harry laughed. “Sometimes. But there were a few times you’d say something in that low voice and I swear to god it made my cock twitch.”

“Please, do not tell me your eleven year old cock twitched at the sound of my voice.”

“Oh, fuck, no. A lot later. Years, even.”

“So when I ask you,” Severus said, lowering his pitch and volume, “if you’d like to take a shower with me. . .”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry breathed, “that’s the one.”

At the top of the stairs, Severus swept Harry into his arms. His kiss was slow, long, and deep. Harry felt his knees buckle ever so slightly as Severus’s hand worked its way down his back, ending at the top of his arse. Harry slid his hands through Severus’s hair, pulling gently on the band. The black tresses fell in a wave across their faces.

Harry felt the wall meet his back as he was backed into it. Using the leverage it provided, Harry bucked his erection into Severus’s; the friction caused him to emit a desperate, needy moan. Instead of breaking the kiss, Severus pushed his tongue in further, the velvety softness wrapped around Harry’s soul and mind and heart. 

They could have been there for several minutes or several days, Harry would not have minded. Severus tasted of smooth scotch and warm earth. Harry’s head rested in the crook of his lover’s shoulder, a most comforting and safe spot. All thoughts of attempted kidnappings and possible death were replaced by the promise of love and a shared future.

Finally, Severus lifted his face, his dark eyes seeking Harry’s. They smiled, and in a fleeting second of embarrassment, they touched foreheads, as if to recover their reason. 

“Wow,” Harry said. 

Without a word Severus led him to their bedroom, a chamber with a large western-facing window. He stood before the open window and tipped his face upwards. The dying rays of a blue and pink of the west-setting sun, fingering in between the ancient, rolling mountains, cast a golden patina around him. A breeze lifted the tips of his black hair, just a little, and made the newly borne leaves on the trees rustles softly. Somewhere, a whipoorwill sang the first song of the evening, and nearby the wood thrush answered, completing the symphony of colour and sound.

“It’s beautiful,” Severus said.

“Yes, it is,” Harry replied, though he was not gazing at the sun.

They shucked out of sweaty, dusty clothing, and kicked off shoes and socks, which caused both to moan in relief. Severus started the shower whilst Harry brushed his teeth. Severus stepped into the hot enclosure and stood under the pounding water. As he shampooed his hair, he felt Harry join him. They passed shampoo and soap, flannel and razor between them, washing off the grit and excitement of the day, and watched it swirl away.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Harry said as they toweled off. 

“What on earth for?”

“Well, earlier Mary Anne said something about you being tall, dark and handsome, and I replied that you were somewhat lacking in the looks department,” Harry said, scrubbing his head with a small towel, and reddening. “I was completely wrong about that. You are without a doubt one of the most handsome men I have ever known.”

It was Severus’s turn to snort in disbelief. 

“No, you are. I mean, you’re definitely not pretty in that fey sort of way, but rather. . .I dunno. Your looks are wholly unique. I think that’s why I find you so attractive.” Harry looked at him thoughtfully.

“I thought it was the voice,” Severus drawled.

“That too. It’s the total package.”

Severus put the damp towel on the rack. He walked into the bedroom and sat, naked, upon the bed. In the gloaming he was a study in a palette of gray and black.

Harry joined him. He kissed Severus’s shoulder, followed the cord of muscle to the nape of his neck. Brushing the hair gently, Harry pressed kisses to the scar on his neck; years of treatment with a salve had smoothed and soothed the jagged, white lines, but the trauma was still evident. Harry blessed it with his love and care, willing the scar to just a memory.

Without words, Severus turned to him, and took him in his arms, laying them down upon their bed. As the world around them spun to black, a low note of contentment stole across the sky. Somewhere, a dog sighed.

THE END


End file.
